


You & I

by R14830



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-08 05:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10379289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R14830/pseuds/R14830
Summary: Sorry this chapter's so short! I promise the others will be longer in the future!-R





	1. An Unexpected Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's so short! I promise the others will be longer in the future! 
> 
> -R

You look at the clock and sigh. It was already 7 pm. Another long day at Ellen’s Roadhouse had you exhausted. Between trying to keep all the customer’s glasses filled and warding off perverts all day, you were dead on your feet and ready for a drink. Ellen was watching you from her place behind the counter, wiping out glasses almost without thinking, a tired but happy look on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Y/N.” She said suddenly, slightly startling you from your task of wiping down the tables. “Yeah?” you say tentatively, sighing internally and waiting for her to ask if you could stay overtime to help tidy up the place. What she said next surprised you. “Go home. You’ve done enough tonight.” she says, smiling a genuine smile. It took you a few moments to process what she was saying. “A-are you sure, Ellen? If you need me to stay and work overtime then-” You were cut short by the expression on her face, a combination of amusement, mischief, and severeness making her deep brown eyes twinkle in the dim light coming from the dusty lamps hanging above your heads. “Well okay, if you’re sure….” you say, unsure if this is a test or if she’s being sincere. Then, just as you’re about to ask her if she’ll need you to come in tomorrow, the door swings open. Standing outside, in the rain, was a man with sandy blonde hair and the greenest eyes you’d ever seen. His eyes weren’t just green, they looked as if God himself had condensed every variation of the color green into that one, beautifully crafted shade that was his eyes. When he saw you standing by the counter, rag in one hand, empty shot glass in the other, he smiled, a dazzlingly white, bright smile, and stepped inside, walking over to the counter, not taking his eyes off of you, blindingly green orbs boring into you, making you feel even more self-conscious about yourself than normal, as he stood in front of Ellen until she cleared her throat, putting her hands on her hips and looking at him condescendingly, as though she had expected him sooner and he had disappointed her. “Dean Winchester. What a surprise.” Ellen said sarcastically, rolling her eyes when he grinned at her. “Ellen. How are you and Jo doing?” Dean asked, seemingly genuinely curious. She shrugged. “Jo’s off hunting with Ash again. Rugaru down in Houston. As for me, I’m doing fine.” Dean smiled slightly, and you saw his shoulders lose a little of the tension that had been there only seconds ago. You coughed loudly then, suddenly feeling like you were intruding on their conversation. “Well, I guess I’d better get going. Thanks again for letting me go home early, Ellen. I’ll come in extra early the next couple days to make it up to you!” you said, grabbing your jacket and keys and starting towards the door. You were a few steps away from the door when Dean’s gruff voice stopped you. “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” You felt your back stiffen as you slowly turned around, a surprised and pissed look on your face. “Excuse me?” you say indignantly as Ellen watched from the side, smiling to herself as she continued to clean the shot glasses one by one. Dean smirked and said “You heard me, sweetheart. Where do you think you’re going?” You narrow your eyes, walking up to get in Dean’s face. “Since when is anything I do any of YOUR business?! Oh, that’s right, IT ISN’T. So screw off, you pervish ass!” you say, practically yelling in his face and poking him hard in the chest. Spinning around, you look quickly at Ellen, mutter a quiet “Bye,” and storm out the door, leaving a very surprised and awed Dean behind.


	2. Pretty Boy

As you rushed out the door into the pouring rain, you hear a faint “Hey, wait! I didn’t mean it that way!”, getting fainter as you were storming off to your car, a classic dark blue ‘69 Ford Mustang that your uncle Bobby had given you. He ran a garage up in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, and had been the main father figure in your life since your mother left you at his doorstep, never to return, making him your only family. As you finally got to your car, you heard footsteps fast approaching. You took a deep breath, opened the passenger door, and steeled yourself, ready for what was about to happen. If this asshole attacks me, I’ll beat him to a pulp! You thought to yourself, cracking your knuckles and slinging your worn leather jacket into the seat along with your purse, slamming the door behind you and turning around, fists clenched at your sides, ready to swing out at any moment. You saw Dean jogging toward you slowly, the rain making his hair stick to his forehead and stick up in little clumps. He had a small frown on his face, which quickly curled into a snide smirk when he noticed your stance. “You gonna throw a punch at this beautiful face, sweetheart?” he asked, teasing you. Your lips curled into a sneer, as you hissed back at him, “Come a little closer, pretty boy, and you’ll find out!” He only smiled, shaking his head and inching a few steps closer, hands in his front jeans pockets. “You really think that I’m-” CRUNCH Your fist hit it’s mark on the side of Dean’s jaw, making him take a few steps back with wide eyes, holding the right side of his face with one hand. Damn, that hurt like hell! But you weren’t one to openly show your pain, so you stood there, smiling triumphantly and gleefully at his pain, trying not to acknowledge your own and wincing inwardly. “Not so tough now, are you, pretty boy?” You laughed, turning around and moving towards your car, your hips swaying slightly, rain-dampened hair moving across your shoulders at every step. While your back was turned, you didn’t see Dean’s eyes gleam as the realization hit him: A strong, beautiful, tough girl had just slugged him in the face, and he wasn’t even angry. He was infatuated by her. It was even better that you liked classic cars, not to mention the fact that you wore boots, jeans, plaid, and an old leather jacket. He had it. Bad. As you got into your car, you looked over at him, standing in the rain, holding his face and sporting a lopsided, Cheshire grin, eyes slightly unfocused. You just rolled your eyes, blasted the first song you found on your tape (which just so happened to be Rock Of Ages by Def Leppard), and started your engine, revving it hard and speeding out of Ellen’s driveway, heading towards your ramshackle apartment in downtown Alliance, Nebraska, a few hours’ drive away from the roadhouse. Your heart was pounding with adrenaline, you hadn’t thought, just acted, and now you probably won’t ever know what he was going to say before you slugged him. You sighed and shook your head, a smirk on your lips as you thought of him sitting there, in the rain, smiling, because you punched him. As you pulled into your parking space inside of the garage, you thought once more of the goofy-ass grin Dean had sported as he slowly receded out of your rear view mirror, making you wonder what he was up to now. It was only when you had stepped over the threshold of your apartment and thrown your purse and jacket onto your chair, collapsing to the couch, you realized that you'd forgotten to grab your phone off of Ellen's countertop in your haste to get out the door. You groaned and threw your arm over your face, feeling fed up and exasperated. You looked at the clock, seeing it was 9:45. You sighed and dropped your arm back across your face. Seconds later, there was a knock at your door. You were confused and slightly apprehensive. Who would be at your house at 10 at night? Standing up, you made your way to the door, and opened it, seeing none other than a soaking wet Dean Winchester. Your mouth hung open in surprise. What was this asshole doing here? Better yet, how did he find your house? You picked your jaw up off the floor and scowled at him, glaring straight into his candy apple green eyes. “The hell do you want, blondie?” You growled, stiffening up and leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed. Dean chuckled. “You never let me finish what I was gonna say, plus I brought you this.” With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out your phone, a small piece of paper sticking out of the side of the case. You grabbed your phone out of his hand and stuffed it into your pocket, making a mental note to look at whatever was on the piece of paper after Dean had left, and invited him in. “Fine. Talk.” You said, dropping into your armchair and pulling your legs up beneath you. Dean simply shook his head, grinning, and sat down on the couch, putting his legs up on your coffee table and putting his hands behind his head. “Before you so rudely interrupted me with your fist,” he said, a soft smile on his face “I was gonna say, “You really think that I'm that kinda guy?” Ya see, sweetheart, I was only coming out there to apologize and explain what I meant by what I said back there. I'm sorry if I offended you, and I honestly didn't even think I'd make it this far into the house without being drop kicked to the next damn county, so I’d say I'm doing pretty good.” He finished, sitting up and leaning forward, clasping his hands on his knees. You sat there, your brain running through everything he had just told you. You couldn't comprehend that Dean was actually a pretty nice guy or the fact that you had punched him simply off of an assumption. You realized he was staring at you and swallowed, staring back tentatively at his beautiful pine and emerald eyes, finding a softness there that startled you. Dean didn’t look the type to be soft and cuddly, he looked more like he could either murder you without blinking, or melt you with a smolder. You blinked, taken aback, and looked at the clock on the wall behind the couch. It read 11:00. You looked back to Dean and noticed how tired he looked. He was looking at the floor, his eyes making him look older than he was by far. You smiled a little to yourself, a thought popping into your brain. “Hey, um, Dean?” you asked warily. He looked up at you, a tiny smile on his face. “Yeah?” You take a deep breath. “Do you have anywhere to stay for the night?” A flicker of surprise crosses his face for a split second, then changes to thoughtfulness. “ Well, I rented out a hotel room for one night, but other than that, no, I don’t think I have anywhere else to stay.” He looks back at you, a look of knowing in the back of his eyes. “Why?” You grin at him. “Well, you’d better cancel it. You’re staying here.” He chuckles and raises an eyebrow. “Now why would I do that?” You stand up and shake your head at him. “Because I punched you in the face off of an assumption, which I have yet to make up for, and because you drove all this way to explain yourself, not to mention bringing my phone back. This is me making up for it.” You say proudly. He grins at you and shrugs. “If you insist. Who am I to say no to a beautiful woman like you?” You roll your eyes and kick his shin as you pass, walking into the kitchen to grab yourself a glass of Jack Daniels and turn on your Classic Rock playlist. You set your iPod on the speakers as you walk by, setting it on Shuffle. The first song that comes on is You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC. “You want anything while I’m in here?” You call to him across the island, standing on your tiptoes to reach the cabinet. “I’ll take some whiskey, please. Doesn’t matter what kind-” he trailed off, staring at the small strip of stomach showing as your shirt rode up. You realize what he’s staring at and smile to yourself, finally reaching your prize. You carefully lower yourself back down and close the cabinet doors, swaying gently to the music, glancing at Dean out of the corner of your eye to find him staring at the floor, smiling wistfully. You fill two glasses with ice and whiskey and bring them over to the small coffee table, handing Dean one and sitting down in your chair, holding the other glass in one hand. You smile softly at him and lean over the small table, Dean copying your movements. The glasses clink together, and you say “To hunting.” He smiles at you and says, “To life.”


End file.
